Healing
by LeeT911
Summary: Sam was the brave one, the one with all the words, the one filling the air with stories to keep away the pain. Sam/Brooke, post-series.


Healing

_Popular_ fanfiction by LeeT911

- -

Brooke woke in a hospital room, cold and scared, holding on to her breath because it seemed like the only thing she could hold onto. Her memories were crystal clear: headlights drowning out her vision, limbs splayed soaring through the air, pavement rushing up to meet her . She wanted to scream, but there was a tube in her throat. She tried to move her arms, but one was locked in a brace and the other was so very weak. A flutter of fingers was all she managed, but then Sam was there, talking to her, even though she couldn't understand a word. Sam was there, smiling and crying and babbling, and for just one moment, before harsh lights exploded overhead and the room filled with doctors, Brooke actually believed that everything was going to be all right.

The second time she woke, it was dark, and she became aware of the pain – bone-deep and throbbing – filling her entire body and making her clench her one free hand into fist. It was then she realized Sam was still there, sitting by the bed and holding her good hand. Sam was numb, eyes wide and lips quaking, looking for all the world like she was about cry. And Brooke remembers wishing she wouldn't, because if Sam did, she knew she would too. They couldn't speak, not with a tube a Brooke's mouth and Sam shaking so badly. So Brooke concentrated on breathing instead, closed her eyes against the tears and pain. Part of her wasn't sure she could survive this, but Sam was latched on, squeezing her hand and she was squeezing right back.

The third time she was conscious, her dad and Jane were there. They both took her hand and kissed her, told her how much they loved her. They told her she was strong and brave, and that everything was going to be fine. She tried to nod her head and smile for them, but she found moving her neck hurt and the breathing tube with its damned tape kept her mouth sealed. She saw the red eyes and tear-streaked faces on both of them.

Sam came back into the room when they left, took a seat in the chair that seemed to be a permanent fixture by her bed. Brooke could tell Sam hadn't cried that day. Sam's face was sad, and maybe a little angry, but it was not puffy and wet. Sam was the brave one, the one with all the words, the one filling the air with stories to keep away the pain. She told Brooke stories about Mom and Dad and little Mac, about songs and stars and sandboxes. She talked about secret things and stupid things, until Brooke's hand went slack and the blonde was sleeping once more.

- -

The day they took the tube out of her lungs, she leaned over the bed, heaving and retching for an hour with nothing to show for it because she hadn't eaten real food in weeks. Sam was there too, holding her shoulders and rubbing her back until Brooke calmed enough to lie down again. She tried to speak then, but her throat was all raw and the words wouldn't come. It felt better though, to be able to breathe normally, even though her chest still hurt.

Sam saw through her. "It's ok, Brooke. Just rest."

It was two more days before Brooke was able to say anything, gasping out one or two words at a time. She could sit up in bed too, if someone helped her. That was also the first time they let her eat again. Of course, it was only Jell-O to start with.

Sam took the tray from the nurse when they brought it in, a single bowl of red Jell-O with a spoon beside it. Brooke tried to eat it on her own, using her left arm only, but her muscles were weak from inactivity. The spoon fell from her grasp three times before Sam took it from her and fed her.

It was both the best and worst meal of her life. It didn't taste that great, and it was only Jell-O after all, but once she started eating she felt so hungry she couldn't stop herself. When it was gone, she sat in bed with tears running down her face, trying to hide her eyes so Sam wouldn't see. She was supposed to be stronger than this.

"I'll go see if I can get you some more." Sam's words were soft and quiet. Gently, she brushed the wetness from Brooke's face and stood.

When she came back there were no words, only a shake of the head and a sad look. Brooke's eyes closed, but there were arms around her, warm and comforting. She let Sam help her down to the bed, felt the sheets pulled over her and a light grip on her hand. The pain was still there. It was always there, even with the familiar hunger, but with Sam nearby she could endure and try to dream.

- -

The first time Brooke went to physiotherapy, she lay in bed and cried afterwards. They had attached her legs to some strange contraption, a machine that pushed and pulled her legs so much that they stretched painfully in all directions. She had never been so sore in her entire life. Sam stroked her hair and rubbed her legs, hugged her and whispered impossible things to her. "Be brave, Brooke, I know you are."

She hugged back, knowing it wasn't true and needing Sam's support. If she truly were brave, she would have asked why Sam was always here, and why no one ever came to visit except for their parents. If she were brave, she would ask about the prom, or Harrison, or Nicole. But she wasn't, and so it was easier this way, for both of them. This way, Brooke could pretend that some things never happened, that this was just a short stay in the hospital for a little accident and that the rest of the world could wait.

The day they let her have a wheelchair, Sam took her out into the open sky and she stared at the sun for so long she thought she would go blind. Her right arm was free of its cast now, and she reached out as far as she could to embrace the sunlight. It was beautiful, and not a therapy day for her, so she didn't hurt too much, although she did miss the hug that Sam always gave her when she got back to her room. She thought of asking about Harrison, but changed her mind when she smiled at Sam and saw her smile back for real. It seemed Sam hadn't been happy in a long time either. So they talked about stupid things instead, like clouds and flowers and butterflies. They explored the hospital grounds, laughing and joking, until Brooke fell asleep in her wheelchair and Sam rolled her back indoors.

- -

It was two more weeks before the world intruded, when Brooke returned from therapy to find Sam missing. It was the nurse who helped her into bed that day, instead of Sam. Brooke wrapped the sheets around her body and told herself not to cry. She had to be brave for Sam.

The brunette appeared a few minutes later, looking concerned and closing the door behind her. Unconsciously, Brooke's hands fidgeted until Sam sat down and took them in her own. "Josh and Lily are outside in the waiting room, along with Carmen, and Harrison."

"Oh."

"Do you want to see them? 'Cause if you don't, I'll just tell them to leave, and…"

Brooke cut her off by pulling Sam into a hug. "I thought you left." She hated herself for being weak, hated needing Sam, but she was hurt and tired and sore. "Could you ask them to come back tomorrow?"

"Ok."

- -

That night, as they sat together on the hospital bed with a checkerboard between them, Brooke suddenly blurted out the question that had been haunting her all day. "Why didn't they ever visit before?"

Sam froze, piece in hand. She sat up straight and turned away from Brooke. When she spoke, it was quiet and timid. "They used to come every day, when you were in your coma. I was pretty bad then, and they would try to cheer me up or get me to leave the hospital sometimes. I yelled at them once, I yelled at them and told them they didn't understand, that they shouldn't come back anymore if they were just here to see me and not you."

Hesitantly, Brooke took Sam's hand and placed it in her lap. "It's ok that they care about you."

"It's not. Not when you were lying there dying and they wanted me to leave you." Sam was really crying now, for the first time since Brooke woke up. "It wasn't supposed to happen. Harrison was supposed to pick you. He's had a crush on you since he was five years old. You were always his perfect dream girl. He was supposed to pick you, and you were supposed to be happy-ever-after and maybe I could've lived with that. But now I'm broken, and you're broken too, and I just wish..."

Brooke's back was tight, but she reached across the bed anyway. Her shoulders hurt, but still she pulled Sam into a hug from behind, holding on as hard as she could. "You're not broken."

Angry, Sam wiped the tears from her face. "I'm pathetic. You get hit by a car and I'm the one crying."

"Sam?" Brooke's voice was barely a whisper. "Did you really want Harrison to pick me?"

"Yes." Sam tried to turn around, but Brooke wouldn't let her.

She held Sam even more tightly, rested her head against dark hair so they wouldn't have to look at each other. "I wanted him to pick you."

There was silence after that, only the sound of breathing left to fill the room. Brooke's admission hung in the air for a long moment before she gathered the courage to continue. "He was supposed to pick you. You've been best friends forever. But when he actually did it, when he chose you over me, if you had smiled or laughed or gloated or done something like that I wouldn't have been able to take it. So I ran."

Sam turned in Brooke's arms, this time with nothing stopping her. Brooke's head was bowed, her hair hiding her face, and Sam leaned in until their foreheads were touching. "I wish we could have gone to the prom together, just you and me."

Brooke's eyes closed then, a single tear escaping. Slowly, Sam's hands came up and brushed away blonde hairs. Warm fingers cupped Brooke's cheeks. She didn't dare look.

When their lips met, it was soft and lingering, the barest of touches repeated over and over. It was breathtaking and heartbreaking, so slow that Brooke felt like she was still bleeding inside. It was gentle and promising, and Brooke's eyes opened in wonder only when it stopped. "Sam?"

"Please get better, Brooke."

- -


End file.
